


Shore Leave

by TrishaCollins



Category: Pirates of the Caribbean (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Family Fluff, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-29
Updated: 2017-05-29
Packaged: 2018-11-06 11:44:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11035530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrishaCollins/pseuds/TrishaCollins
Summary: One day every ten years, but the rules didn't say anything about letters. Bootstrap is more than happy to oblige.





	Shore Leave

"There now, lad, steady on your feet." The words and hand holding him up were kind, and the man who smiled at him moved in an easy, loping fashion that he thought reminded him of some of his mother's friends.

He grinned up at him. "Hi!"

The man's eyes crinkled in return. "Hello. Is your mother here?"

"Bill." His mother's voice was warm and startled. "Did something...is..?"

Mr. Irving was standing next to her, his bundle of charts tucked against him.

"He's fine, love. I brought messages." The man was still holding him up. "He's walking now."

Mother's gaze dropped to him, fond. "He's working on it. Come in, please."

The man started to let go of him, seemed to think better of it, and scooped him up as though he weighed nothing at all.

He smelled like salt and brine, he giggled and hooked his hands on his jacket sleeves. "Higher!"

The man's face softened into such an expression of fondness that he had no place for it.

"He looks like his father." The man said, voice a bit choked.

"Henry." Mother said gently. "This is your grandfather, Bill."

"Hi." He chirped again, exploring the man's pockets. He found a piece of bone wrapped in a string, and an old leather book with a nubby pencil tucked inside.

"How long can you stay?" Mother asked, seeming to forget that Mr. Irving was there at all.

Mr. Irving hardly seemed to mind. "Captain. I'll settle the men, if that suits you."

"It does, thank you, Mr. Irving. Let me know if there are any issues."

Mr. Irving gave her a small bow, and started down the row. "Bye-bye!" He called after Mr. Irving.

The man holding him chuckled. "He's a cheerful lad."

"He always has been. I do not know where he has come by it." Mother said, clearing a spot at the table for the man to sit.

"Will's left me for the night." The man said, in answer to mother's earlier question. "I'll meet him at dawn, though if you want me to find other lodgings, I have coin."

"I wouldn't think of sending you away. Family always has a place here, Bill." Mother said firmly. 

He had no idea what a grandfather was, but he did not seem to mind that he was exploring his pockets. There was a compass in another, and a strip of leather with needles and thread. "What's this?"

"For patching sails, lad." The man answered easily, putting his bag on the table and sitting down.

That made sense. He wondered if Mr. Irving had a patch of leather in his coat with strings and needles. He thought not, Mr. Irving probably had someone who carried those for him, his grandfather didn't.

"How is he?" Mother asked, with such worry in her voice that he turned to look at her.

"Well, the seas have not been kind, and there was enough left undone that I do not imagine we will have much time for rest in the near future." The man brushed his fingers over his head. "But sending you letters gives him heart, and I am more than glad to attend that duty. He thinks of you often, and little Henry."

Mother ducked her head, drawing a deep breath. "We think of him as well. Has he received my letters?"

The man holding him chuckled. "A clever trick, Miss, to slip them in the pockets of the men you intend to rid the seas of. He's treasured every single one. The sketch you sent of this lad is one of the few decorations in his cabin. He'd much like one of you, if you're willing."

Mother nodded, giving a warm smile. "Are you hungry, Bill?"

"Always, miss." His grandfather answered, guiding his hand to another pocket.

Eagerly he drew a small wrapped bundle from it. "What's this?"

"A gift, lad. From your father. I've another from me."

A gift! From father! He unwrapped it eagerly, peering at the tube of metal, turning it over in his fingers. "What's it for?"

His grandfather opened it up, making it a longer tube. "It allows you to see far away. Like this. They're for sailors to use to spy on the horizon."

Mother laughed softly from where she was directing the cook. "Will would send him a spyglass."

"Always the practical sort, even though he's so young." The man hugged him against his chest. "Will you take him to sea?"

"When he's older, certainly. I can't let Irving take all of the glory." Mother came back and sat down.

"How goes your shipping company?"

Mother smiled that old smile, the one she smiled with Irving. He peered through the glass out the door.


End file.
